


After Hours

by orphan_account



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-24
Updated: 2014-11-25
Packaged: 2018-02-26 21:26:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2666894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan has always been fond of cafe culture, although he had a skewed vision of things when he decided to go into business of his own. Hire a couple of kids, he thought, let them work the register and the espresso machine while he sits in the corner with a book and a steaming mug. Maybe flirt a little here and there, while he surveys his cosy kingdom. He was young then, mind you, and has always been something of a romantic. Deep down he knew that owning a cafe wouldn’t be as luxurious as dining in one, but he’s grown to love the stress of working behind the machine, keeping people caffeinated, keeping them happy.</p><p>---</p><p>Ryan owns a cafe and Michael and Ray become regulars. A crush starts to form between Ray and Ryan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It’s a fairly quaint cafe that Ryan owns, and only a stone’s throw away from his apartment in the middle of the city. There are business folk, university students and families that all pass through, and a dozen or so regulars who remain loyal to Ryan’s coffee. One of his best friends, Geoff Ramsey, keeps things moving in the back, supplying the fresh pastries for the fridge and the wit at the register while Ryan keeps the ever-growing line of customers content. He could probably do to hire some more staff, perhaps some students looking for experience before they jump into the big, scary world. But Ryan likes it this way, with Geoff and his regulars, and their steady wave of customers that keep them occupied during the days.

 

Ryan has always been fond of cafe culture, although he had a skewed vision of things when he decided to go into business of his own. Hire a couple of kids, he thought, let them work the register and the espresso machine while he sits in the corner with a book and a steaming mug. Maybe flirt a little here and there, while he surveys his cosy kingdom. He was young then, mind you, and has always been something of a romantic. Deep down he knew that owning a cafe wouldn’t be as luxurious as dining in one, but he’s grown to love the stress of working behind the machine, keeping people caffeinated, keeping them happy.

 

But the romantic side of him hadn’t died, and he still longs for the evenings when the cafe lulls into the silence and the calmness that his younger self had always dreamed of. He knows now that silence is a sign of bankruptcy, and if he ever found his shop to be so calm in the morning, his hair would start falling out. But for the last few hours at the end of each working day, Ryan can send Geoff home and settle down with a book behind the counter. A customer will wander through, or a couple seeking a late night refuge. It was a different kind of service then, something more intimate as the milk steamer broke the silence and the smell of coffee beans warmed the near-empty room.

 

—————

 

“Geoff,” Ryan says, somewhat exasperated, as his hands fly from one side of the espresso machine to the other, multitasking two cappuccinos, a mocha and an iced latte. “Can you get rid of that damn jar?”

 

Geoff slips back in from the kitchen, his face calm as ever, but his movements swift enough to keep up with the line behind the register. “No way, dude, this thing is going to change your life.”

 

He reaches over the counter, tapping the top of the glass jar labelled ‘ _phone numbers_ ’ sitting next to their jar for tips, grinning at the man next in line. Both jars were miserably empty, but Geoff has high hopes for the day. 

 

The man shifts uncomfortably and ignores Geoff’s proposal, instead stating his order. Without a fuss, Geoff raises his hands defensively, then enters it into the machine. He calls over to Ryan, “Flat white on the way,” despite the screen above the espresso machine displaying the orders for him.

 

Ryan works silently until the whole of the line has been served, steaming milk while coffee brews, pouring with one hand while tamping ground beans with the other. Geoff soon takes his place at Ryan’s side, pouring coffee here and stirring sugar there, while Ryan can focus entirely on the milk.

 

When the screen of orders is finally blank, they both lean against the machine and sigh as if they’d run a marathon. “School holidays,” Geoff suggests, to explain their lunch rush. Ryan merely shrugs as he wipes down the serving counter, and his silence is the clear sign that Geoff is free to return to the kitchen. From here on out, the day will only get quieter, and Ryan can handle the orders himself.

 

He had almost forgotten about the jar of phone numbers, until a pair of boys (well, young adults, he’s sure - perhaps secondary students) wander into the cafe. They interrupt their own conversation when they see at it, pointing and chuckling, but not with the slightest tone of malice. 

 

“Oh shit, Michael, you finally have a chance with the man of your dreams!” One of them says, slapping his friend hard on the back. 

 

“Who, me? I’ve already got a huge loser at my side!” Michael retorts, giving his companion a small shove. Ryan smiles politely at the two of them as he takes his place at the register.

 

“What can I do for you lads?” He offers, bringing their attention forth. 

 

“What? Oh, hey!” The unnamed boy, with short dark hair and thick rimmed glasses, turns to Ryan with a smile. “Aren’t you gonna check your catches of the day?”

 

Ryan's Customer Service Smile falters for a second, “Uh, pardon?”

 

“You got some numbers, dude,” Michael explains, pointing at the jar. Ryan knows he doesn’t blush, not externally, but his hands fumble on the counter and the quickly reaches forward to turn the jar around, hiding the label from the customers. He knows if he takes the jar away, Geoff would have his head.

 

“Sorry about that,” he tries, but the boys are practically giggling. “Can I get you a drink today? Maybe something from our display?” He waves a practised hand to the glass cabinet filled with Geoff’s sweets. As if on cue, Geoff emerges from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a cloth before throwing it against the counter.

 

“They fuckin’ better, I slaved over those babies,” he declares, and Ryan’s eyes go wide. He turns to glare at Geoff, lips pursed, but Geoff just leans over the register to grab Michael’s hand. The boy beams at him, shaking it hard. “Good to see you again, my boy,” Geoff greets, then offers a small nod to Ryan. “Michael was in here the other day, we had a good chat. Chill out, man.”

 

Once the tension is Ryan’s shoulders lessened, Geoff leans casually against the glass cabinet, nonchalantly turning the Number jar back around so the label can be seen. “Is this Ray, then?”

 

“Yeah, and Michael mentioned you,” the second boy, Ray, piped up. When Geoff held a fist out to him, he grinned and reached out to bump it against his own. Ryan felt far more relaxed now, but would still have a word to Geoff about cussing in front of customers later. “I hope your meringue is as baller as he said.”

 

“Don’t you fuckin’ worry about that,” Geoff nodded with confidence, before Ryan stepped on his foot. 

 

“We’ll have two of the meringue cake, and I’ll grab us both a latte as well,” Michael finally said to Ryan. After Ray elbowed his side, he added, “Oh, can one have nutmeg?”

 

Ryan effortlessly put the order through, and Geoff departed from the counter to prepare the coffee grind. Usually, once the order was taken, Ryan would ask the boys to step aside and let other customers to the register. But the cafe is beginning to empty, and the door shows no sign of anybody new, so when the boys loiter, Ryan tries chatting to them from behind the machine.

 

“What are you two up to today?” He asks, somewhat shyly, never being too good at getting into small talk. That’s what Geoff was for.

 

“Just got out of class,” Ray answers for them, and approaches the other side of the counter where his coffee will be waiting for him; closest to where Ryan steams the milk. He leans his full weight against the counter, absentmindedly tapping against the stack of plastic coffee lids, and continues, “It’s getting hectic this time of year, I thought it was about time Michael bought me a coffee from here.”

 

Ryan thinks on his words, losing himself in the spiralling of the milk in his hands. He finally looks up at Michael and offers, “I do remember you, actually. You’ve been in a few times this semester, haven’t you?” 

 

Michael grins at him, but it falters and he suddenly looks annoyed. “Don’t count on seeing me too much after today, though.” Ryan thinks he’s done something wrong until Michael explains, “I finally got a job at the Gamestop down the road. Sweet pay, but the hours’ll mean no more impromptu coffee runs.”

 

Ray feigns a heartbroken look, and Ryan quickly averts his attention to his hands. 

 

Geoff has already slipped back into the kitchen, leaving Ryan on his own with the lads. From the corner of his eye he spots their affection; light punches and arms slung around each others shoulders, a playful exterior complimenting their lingering gazes. He knows he probably shouldn’t assume anything, but he finds himself automatically doing what he does for every couple who breezes through — he pours a heart into the foam of both their coffees.

 

When he hands them over, he gives a polite nod and goes to fetch their slices of cake. When he returns, the boys are laughing again, but there’s a slight tension there.

 

“Everything alright?” Ryan asks automatically as he slides the plates over the counter to them. 

 

Ray is a little quick to respond, “I’m not dating him!”

 

Ryan is somewhat taken aback, and Michael gives Ray another push. It makes him wobble, his coffee spilling over the edge of his cup.

 

“You don’t have to be so quick about it, asshole!” Michael shouts, but he’s grinning as he does so. Ray seems caught up in his coffee.

 

“Aw man, you wrecked it. That was super pretty, even though I’m not taking you up the ass.”

 

Their conversation fades out from Ryan’s ears as they cross to the other side of the cafe. He’s ready to drown himself in the ice maker, but an old woman standing at the register happily draws his attention away from the pair. Time to work again.

 

—————

 

Ryan doesn’t see them again until the following week. He walks his usual route to the cafe, breathing in the bustling city morning without paying close attention to the people he passes. It’s half ten when he steps through the doors to find the line at the register beyond Geoff’s control, the baker’s eyes darting over to meet Ryan’s with a desperate plea for help.

 

“Jesus, Geoff, why didn’t you call me?” Ryan asks as soon as he’s behind the counter. The list of orders fills the screen above the machine, some blinking menacingly at him if they’ve been on hold for more than five minutes. There are four or five shots of espresso lined up by the machine, and several empty cups waiting to be filled. Geoff must have gotten distracted serving customers and struggled with the multi tasking.

 

“It just happened, okay?!” Geoff tries to excuse, “I didn’t get a chance to even think about finding the phone.” As if on cue, the cordless phone starts ringing from inside the kitchen. Geoff narrowly stops himself from cursing in front of a customer before Ryan waves him into the back.

 

“I’ll handle it, go take the call.” 

 

He apologises to the next customer waiting and dives into coffee prep. All the shots are cold, so he re-brews three at once, then sets up two pitchers of milk to steam at either end of the machine. Geoff returns almost instantly, holding the phone in the crook of his shoulder and neck as he types an order into the register.

 

“We’re getting phone orders?” Ryan asks, incredulous.

 

“Yeah, I don’t fucking know, man. Must be a rally in the city or something."

 

It’s an uphill battle for the next twenty minutes, but they finally work their way through the old orders and have all the new ones set up for serving. Ryan gives Geoff a nod and the baker is gone, disappearing back into the kitchen then reappearing sans apron for his lunch break.

 

“Make it quick, in case we get another wave,” Ryan orders, and Geoff just waves a hand at him while he grabs himself a pie and an espresso for his lunch. Ryan’s eyes follow him to the other side of the cafe where he makes himself comfortable, but his eye line is interrupted by a familiar face.

 

He’s prepared to brush it off, give a smile then go back to work, but Ray approaches the counter, eyes locked on him. Ryan shifts uncomfortably and turns on his customer service mode.

 

“Hey there,” he offers.

 

“Hey. I saw you in here the other day,” Ray starts, and Ryan nods, remembering. 

 

“What can I do for you?” Ryan asks, spotting the two take-away coffees already in Ray’s hands.

 

Ray looks down at them then nods back up at Ryan. “Oh, I wanted to say something before, but you were super focused, in terminator mode or something.” 

 

“My bad,” Ryan tries, “We don’t usually get a rush until lunch, I admit I was a little stumped."

 

Ray laughs and gestures at Ryan’s chest, “I noticed."

 

Ryan looks down, muttering to himself when he finds he’s still wearing his cardigan from his morning walk. He quickly shrugs out of it and lays it on the opposing counter, then picks up Geoff’s apron to wear for the time being.

 

“Anyway,” Ray continues, “This is actually super lame, but I just saw the rose you put in my coffee, and thought it was really cool."

 

Ryan pauses then, mentally flipping through the portfolio of latte art he’s been using today. In the middle of a rush, when he’s running mostly on autopilot, he wouldn’t normally bother. But banging out a few patterns here and there helped keep his nerves settled.

 

“I mean, especially considering how crazy it was. I actually saw you do it, you were lightning fast."

 

When Ryan realises he’s being complimented, he locks up a little, rubbing the back of his neck and breaking eye contact. “Er, thanks. All part of the job."

 

“Well, uh, good job!” Ray tries, his laughter faltering. “I better go, my friend will be wanting his coffee. Seriously, loved the rose. Can’t wait to see the next one!” With that, he bustles from the shop, and Ryan watches him half-jog down the street until he’s completely out of view. 

 

Roses, he thinks, and turns back to the milk steamer. He’ll have to remember that.

 

—————

 

“You reckon he’s cute?” Michael asks, leaning forward over their table at the cafe so he and Ray can talk comfortably.

 

“Wow, no, okay. You’re the one who brought it up. And cute is definitely the wrong word for him."

 

“Dammit Ray, whatever. But you think he’s attractive, yeah?"

 

Ray groaned into his frappe. “I guess? He’s got the whole chiselled-jaw thing going on, and his hair is… nice?"

 

Michael laughs way louder than he needs to, and Ray risks a glance over at the quiet barista. Their eyes meet in passing, but thankfully the contact doesn’t hold.

 

“You’ve gotta get better at talking about dudes, dude,” Michael says. “He’s pretty fucking sweet, in that hot dad kind of way."

 

“Thanks disgusting,” Ray interjects, and Michael pays him no notices.

 

“The first step into accepting your sweet, sweet bisexuality, is admiring the hot dads from afar,” Michael preaches, holding his arms out like he’s some kind of all welcoming Jesus.

 

“You are a seriously disturbed person,” Ray continues from his earlier comment, “You need medical help."

 

Michael finally gives his arm a shove. “You have to be nice to me, dude, this is my day off."

 

“Yeah, and we’re talking about fucking fathers. Dads. DILFs?” Ray tries, screwing up his face then laughing.

 

Michael opens his mouth to speak again, but pauses when Ryan walks past them to collect some empty plates from a nearby table. His eyes follow him until he’s far enough away, then leans in closer to Ray.

 

“He’s not an actual dad though, chill out. It’s just his air, y’know?"

 

“How the hell do you know all this about your fucking barista?"

 

“I got an inside man!” Michael declares, awfully pleased with himself. “Geoff and I are getting buddy-buddy, he’s a super cool guy. He watches Sunny too!"

 

“Oh, good, thank  _God_ ,” Ray sighs, “Someone else who can talk about that fucking show with you."

 

“And oh, thank god,” Michael quips, nodding towards the barista bar, “Someone else who can be hella gay with  _you_."

 

“I fucking hate you,” Ray groans.

 

“Love you too, man."

 

—————

 

“How’re you holding up, Rye-bread?” Geoff asks as he pulls the drawstrings to loosen his apron. “You’ve been drawin’ feathers all day."

 

Ryan looks up from his coffee, distracted in his automatic pouring of the milk. Geoff already has his hoodie on and his keys in his hand when Ryan finally responds, “I’m fine."

 

“You hate feathers,” Geoff points out. “They’re too easy."

 

“I’m just bored. Tired,” Ryan quickly corrects. “Pretty tired. Long days. The students have been hitting us hard, you know."

 

“Yeah, trust me, I know,” Geoff nods. “Looks like that wasn’t a rally after all, just a bunch of tired fuckin’ freshmen trying to stay awake for exam period."

 

“I mean, when will it end?” Ryan questions, “This feels like it’s been going on way longer than what I remember exam period to be like."

 

“I dunno, dude, I never did the whole college thing.” Geoff just shrugs and gives Ryan a firm pat on the back as he passes him. He turns, then stops as he lets himself out from behind the counter, knocking his knuckles against the wood countertop. “Oh, before I go, can I talk to you off the record?"

 

Ryan raises an eyebrow as he slides a coffee across the counter, waving to the customer who had ordered it. He turns back to Geoff, “We have a record?"

 

Geoff ignores him. “Those kids keep coming by in the morning, before your shift starts.” Geoff raises his brows at him, waiting for Ryan’s response, but Ryan stares cluelessly. “Those two college dudes, with the sick tattoos? Well, one of them, anyway. He’s got a full-on Link up his arm, and,"

 

Ryan interrupts Geoff before he starts getting too animated in the tattoo talk. “What about them?"

 

Geoff’s face changes and suddenly he’s smirking at Ryan, nodding at him like he knows something Ryan doesn’t.

 

“Go on, spit it out."

 

“Heard ‘em talking. I hear ‘em talking most mornings, actually. Catch a little conversation before I go say hello. Michael is fucking loud, you know?"

 

“Geoff."

 

“Got the hots for you."

 

Ryan pauses, taken aback by the statement. There’s been a mistake. “What?"

 

“Yeah, they talk about it like it’s some fucking national debate. It’s almost cute. Have they been tipping you good?"

 

Ryan stammers, trying to find his words, trying to comprehend what Geoff has told him. “I don’t — I don’t think so? I don’t think they tip."

 

“Well, here’s a tip,” Geoff offers, and leans over to Ryan with a hand covering the side of his mouth. “They are le-gaaaaal,” he sings, and Ryan immediately scoffs and smacks Geoff upside the head. Despite the hit, Geoff walks away laughing.

 

He’s caught in the doorway by another man entering, and the second he sees who it is, Geoff shoots a grin at Ryan and offers a tiny, flirty little wave. Ryan grits his teeth, but has to push it down as he approaches the register to meet Ray in line.

 

“Afternoon, Ray,” Ryan greets, still sounding quite stiff. “No Michael today?"

 

Ray’s caught a little off guard by Ryan remembering his name, but then he smiles and relaxes against the counter. “Just me, all to yourself,” he assures, and Ryan’s heart thuds far louder than necessary.

 

“What are you after? We got another batch of citrus for those frappes you like —"

 

“Nah,” Ray interrupts. “I’ll have a latte. It’ll be cold out by the time I leave."

 

“I’ll double the nutmeg,” Ryan offers politely, and only just catches it when Ray drops a bill into his tip jar. He inhales carefully, then turns to focus on the coffee machine.

 

Ray doesn’t have to stand at the counter while he waits, but he stays there awkwardly by the machine, tapping his fingers while Ryan enamours himself with the milk steamer. He watches Ryan pour and sculpt the best rose of his career, then offers a polite few claps of applause when the cup is placed in front of him.

 

“You’ve truly outdone yourself!” Ray exclaims, actually hesitating when he goes to dip his spoon into it, for fear of ruining the design.

 

“If I see you in tomorrow, I’ll make you something special,” Ryan promises, and he immediately goes cold. There’s a tiny spark in his chest when he sees Ray’s excitement, and small swell of satisfaction when he sips and offers Ryan a thumbs up. But when Ray turns to find himself a seat, Ryan turns his back and sinks to the floor behind the counter, covering his face with his hands.

 

What the fuck was that? What on earth had he promised that for? And why does he care so much about following through? Ray will expect something now, something beautiful and delicious and unique, and Ryan has no idea what he’s doing.

 

He wishes Geoff hadn’t told him such a stupid lie, frazzling his brain and making him think harder about his past interactions with Ray. For God’s sake, he’s only served him half a dozen times now. But he wants to serve him more; wants to talk to him more, because Ray is pleasant. He has a stupidly happy laugh, a light in his eye which brightens Ryan’s entire cafe, and he enjoys their light hearted quips over the register.

 

So that’s how Ryan ends up staying back for an hour after his scheduled closing time, mixing flavours and sketching patterns into the fluffy foam of practise lattes, his eyelids heavy and his skin stained with the scent of coffee.

 

—————

 

“Have you sealed the deal yet?” Geoff asks him out of the blue during their next lunch shift. Ryan somehow knows exactly what he’s talking about, but keeps himself busy, keeps himself quiet, while he works on scrubbing the expresso machine clean.

 

“I mean, you look pretty tired. Probably up all hours of the night taking it up the —"

 

“Hey, I don’t take!” Ryan protests, but immediately turns back to what he’s doing and groans quietly, annoyed to have taken the bait. “You damn well know I don’t take,” he mumbles, somewhat threateningly.

 

“Hey!” Geoff exclaims, his turn to be taken aback, “That was one time, and we said we wouldn’t talk about it again!"

 

Ryan suddenly feels much better with Geoff’s discomfort in the air. As easily as he could drop the subject now, he feels compelled to defend himself.

 

“You heard some kids talking amongst themselves, probably taking the piss. That doesn’t mean anything, alright? They’re just customers, and I’m just, well, serving them. I haven’t done anything and I’m not  _going_ to do anything."

 

Geoff sighs, defeated, but perks up a little when he turns back to the register to find Ray waiting in the one-man line. “Hey buddy,” Geoff offers. “What can I get you today? I made a mean pumpkin pie this morning."

 

“That sounds great!” Ray agrees, far too enthusiastic, “And Ryan promised me a special drink today, so I’ll take whatever he’s making."

 

Geoff turns, agonisingly slowly, to face his coworker, a slow smirk crawling up his face. “Oh, did he really?"

 

Ryan goes hot in the face, with embarrassment or anger, he’s not sure. “I’ll get on it,” he mutters through gritted teeth, and turns to focus himself amongst the syrup bottles. Geoff and Ray hold polite conversation over the register, but he can feel Geoff’s grin bearing into the back of his skull. He jumps when his co-worker finally slaps a hand over his shoulder.

 

“You almost had me fooled, my man.” Geoff curls his moustache rather evilly, but Ryan keeps his eyes down. “Latte flirting. Truly astonishing. No wonder you’re still single."

 

“Haven’t you got a fucking cupcake in the oven, or something?” Ryan tries. It gets Geoff to leave, but he’s chuckling the whole way into the kitchen.

 

All of the irritation melts out of Ryan’s pores when Ray sees his coffee, and immediately whips his phone out from his pocket.

 

“What are you doing?"

 

“Dude, that’s beautiful."

 

It’s not as satisfying as the sultry moan that falls from Ray’s lips after his first sip, however. Ryan’s hands grip the edge of the counter a little tighter, watching Ray’s closed eyes behind his glasses and his exaggerated expression of ecstasy.

 

The moment is interrupted when Geoff’s arm reaches between them to place down Ray’s plate of pumpkin pie. “On the house!” He declares, much to Ray’s pleasure.

 

“Seriously? You guys are the coolest. Custom lattes and free fucking pie? Jackpot over here."

 

“You should really try the cream,” is Geoff’s only reply, as he shakes up their bottle of whipped cream for the pie.

 

“Shit, dude, just fucking squirt it in my mouth.” Ray opens his mouth wide and Geoff leans across the counter to him.

 

“Geoff, kitchen, now.” Ryan grabs Geoff by the moustache, yanking him aside and dragging him into the back room. Luckily, Ray just laughs, waving them off before taking his food and moving to a seat.

 

Geoff rubs his upper lip when his moustache is finally freed in the privacy of the kitchen. Ryan stands between him and the door, arms crossed over his chest, staring daggers.

 

Finally, Geoff speaks up. “I don’t know what you’re so pissed about. We were just messing around."

 

Ryan takes a deep breath, exhaling sharp through his nose like a bull, and Geoff quivers.

 

“First, unhygienic as fuck. Second, inappropriate. Third, fuck you."

 

“It aint my fault you’re a horny old man who can’t look at a can of cream without getting dirty,” Geoff tries to tease, but deflates when Ryan holds his ground.

 

“He’s a kid, Geoff! This is getting really weird!"

 

“You’re like four years older than him! And he’s got a great butt! I thought you liked great butts,” Geoff says, exasperated.

 

Ryan just frowns, his stands faltering as he backpedals. “Four years?"

 

“Okay, five. He’s like 24. It was Michael’s birthday last week when they came in. I went over to chat and it came up, so I grabbed him a piece of cake, on me. They said Michael was a year older than Ray — I think that’s right."

 

Ryan’s arms have lowered significantly, his shoulders losing some of their stiffness. “He looks, like, fifteen."

 

“Ah,” Geoff announces, placing a hand on Ryan’s shoulder, “But his ass has aged like a fine wine."

 

—————

 

Despite their conversation, despite Ryan managing to find out Ray’s age from polite, innocent small talk, he does nothing, and continues to work as Ray’s barista and his barista alone. Ryan thanks the heavens when, for whatever reason, Ray starts to come to the cafe later in the day, hours after Geoff’s shift has ended and Ryan is the only one in the store. It gives Ryan a chance to relax and not think so hard about small talk with Geoff’s eyebrows waggling from his peripheral vision. It’s also kind of beautiful at that hour, right after the end of the work day, when workers have already nabbed their drive-home caffeine boost and families have since picked up their children, bought them all milkshakes and headed on home.

 

It’s beautiful when the store is so quiet and the only disruption is the distant clacking of Ray’s laptop keys. The days have begun to shorten and the sun sinks lower, earlier, and the slouching purple hoodie across the store silhouettes against the far window. Ryan finds himself staring more often than nothing, while he absentmindedly wipes down the counter and clears old dishes.

 

Just his barista, Ryan tells himself. 

 

He perks up whenever Ray lifts his cup to his mouth, but pausing when he finds it empty. Ray just sets it down and continues working, but Ryan immediately turns to the espresso machine. Forty seconds later, he’s wandering silently over to Ray’s table, placing a fresh rose beside Ray’s laptop and clearing up the old cup and his empty plate.

 

“I’ve got like four essays due this semester,” Ray says, catching Ryan off guard as he goes to turn away. He lingers now, listening politely as Ray holds his gaze to his computer screen. “It’s total balls. And exams on top of that. I don’t know how I’m alive right now."

 

He finally draws his hands away from the keyboard to pick up his new coffee, taking a long, slow sip, then finally lifting his gaze to Ryan and smiling.

 

“You’re a life saver, buddy."

 

Ryan feels warm inside.

 

—————

 

And so it continues, a pattern beginning to form, traditions building themselves up over the next two weeks. Ryan doesn’t go two days without Ray entering his cafe, always alone, always in the evening. Sometimes there’ll be others; couples or families or tourists, but his attention is never stolen away from Ray for very long. Every day he arrives with his laptop and Ryan makes his latte, every day Ray takes a picture of the rose in the foam and cradles it over to his seat. 

 

It’s a particularly quiet Monday, when Geoff goes home early and Ray arrives late. Even the evening rush goes by in a minute or two, and Ryan is left cleaning alone. Ryan is contemplating closing early when Ray finally shows up, looking absolutely wrecked and particularly appreciative of today’s coffee. He settles himself in a couch rather than a chair, sinking into the plush and opening his laptop. He covers his face with his hands, sighing so heavily Ryan can hear it across the room.

 

As casually as possible, cleaning tables on the way, Ryan approaches him, attempts some light hearted conversation.

 

“Rough day?” He offers uselessly.

 

“I’m so over writing, man,” Ray breathes, “I just can’t wait for this to be over."

 

He keeps his eyes fixed on the screen as he lifts one of his hoodie drawstrings to his mouth and begins to chew. Ryan leaves him in peace, keeping a steady eye out for the tell tale signs of a top-up and bringing it over silently. 

 

Ryan has everything cleaned up early, the kitchen having been packed up when Geoff left at five. But with Ray’s presence, he holds out, letting the boy use his quiet sanctuary until the official closing time. When the clock hits 9:50, Ryan pulls on his cardigan and leans up against the espresso machine.

 

“I’ve gotta close up in ten,” he calls across the cafe.

 

Nothing.

 

He shifts awkwardly, watching Ray’s face of concentration as he stares down his laptop screen, fingers whirring across the keyboard.

 

Ryan waits a moment longer, opens his mouth to speak again, but falters. Ray mustn’t have heard him — too enthralled in his work — but he can’t bring himself to repeat it. Thinking about it, he’s sure it wouldn’t hurt to let Ray stay just a little longer than normal.

 

Stepping back from the machine, Ryan settles himself into a chair behind the counter. He grabs a paperback from his messenger bag and begins to read.

 

When his wristwatch starts beeping at 12am, Ray stands up and starts to pack his things. Ryan finds himself half asleep on his chair, and only just stands up in time for Ray to pass him on the way out.

 

“Thanks for the coffee, I really needed it tonight."

 

Ryan offers a hand in a still wave, releasing a tired sigh as soon as Ray is out of the doors. He scoops up his keys and his bag, rubbing at his tired eyes, and vows that he’ll be firmer about closing hours next time.

 

—————

 

The next five days have Ray working silently in the back booth until 2am.

 

Ryan gave up on kicking him out almost as soon as the thought crossed his mind. He took one look at the exhausted eyes behind those glasses and then a longer gaze at what the cafe looked like at night with Ray in it. Empty, it’s a glass room with cold wooden chairs and a counter hidden under ghostly white sheets. With Ray, there’s a warm glow from the back lights, a peaceful stillness as life lingers amongst the empty seats. The coffee machine remains warm under Ryan’s hands as he makes himself another cappuccino, perking himself up for a peaceful night of slow cleaning and quiet reading.

 

On the upside, the cafe is spotless. He’s taken to sweeping the floors and wiping the table tops three times over, just to keep himself busy, to keep his mind moving while Ray continues to work in his own little bubble. Not only that, but Ryan has noticed that with proximity comes conversation, and Ray talks quietly to him without need for reply.

 

“There’s like three lines at Gamestop every time I try to visit Michael,” he says one time, half smiling.

 

“I can’t remember the word for, like, not-offensive. Innocu….lous? No.."

 

“You’ve got to be fucking smart about the APA in these things."

 

“I used to sit up like this at home, my mum always pulled the plug on my laptop because she didn’t understand it had its own battery."

 

“I have to pay for my fucking electricity tomorrow, don’t let me forget."

 

“Have you ever been to Texas? Michael’s talking of moving to Austin."

 

Ryan never replies, and he never needs to. Ray will keep talking, having half a conversation with himself, trailing off into something else, eventually settling into silence as something in his essay distracts him. One night Ryan actually settles himself across from Ray, reading his book in the chair across from him, just so he can listen to Ray talk without needing to be moving around so much. It suddenly feels like Ryan is back in time, back in the fantasies of his youth as he relaxes into his chair, in the centre of his beautifully lit cafe in the middle of the city nightscape.

 

Two days later, Ray enters the shop sans laptop, three hours ahead of schedule. Ryan is serving a line of customers when he spots Ray out of the corner of his eye, smiling and nodding a greeting, confused when Ray returns something half as genuine.

 

He doesn’t enter the line and doesn’t approach until Ryan has finished with the line of coffees. Finally, he stands at the register, toeing the ground.

 

“Evening, Ray,” Ryan greets. “Everything alright?"

 

“Uh, yeah. I came in this morning, actually, when it was just Geoff."

 

“Oh?” Ryan begins to tap Ray’s usual order into the register.

 

“Yeah, I just mentioned how I’ve been working here late and stuff. He was really surprised. About how, you know, the cafe is meant to close at ten."

 

Ryan’s teeth gnaws his lower lip, not really sure what to say. Ray looks embarrassed, of all things.

 

“I - I’m so sorry, dude. I mean. You could have kicked me out, I’ve been hanging all over your turf and — I didn’t even realise how late I was staying, really."

 

“Hey,” Ryan interrupts, feeling a frown forming on his face. “Look, it’s okay. I really don’t mind. It’s actually been quite peaceful for me; staying up that little bit later; not working myself to the bone. I’m sleeping better after hanging out here with you."

 

Ray isn’t sure if the blush shows on his face, but he can definitely feel his neck going hot.

 

“You work real hard, I can see that. If… If being here helps that, then yeah. That’s okay. I want my cafe to be refuge to you if you need it.”

 

I’ll always be here for you if you need it, Ryan just stops himself from saying.

 

Ray still looks somewhat hesitant, but an appreciative smile crosses his mouth. “That’s so cool of you,” he tries, “Thank you. I’ll. Yeah, I’ll come back around tonight."

 

Ryan makes his drink to-go, skipping the rose and sealing it off with a plastic lid for him. Ray lingers at the counter for just a second, looking from the coffee to Ryan, then finally smiling before he takes his leave.

 

—————

 

It’s nearly 9 o’clock when Ray finally turns up. Ryan has already ditched his apron and has two shots of coffee waiting for the student upon his entrance. 

 

“Night,” he greets, and slides a coffee across the counter, without so much as asking for an order or a payment. Ray takes it carefully, looking around like he’s somewhere he’s not supposed to be.

 

“Just ask if you need anything,” Ryan offers, then sets to making a cup for himself. Triple shot, this time, and he even adds a little sugar. He keeps his hands busy, but his eyes follow Ray over to his seat, watching the boy get comfortable as he wraps his hands around his mug.

 

It’s a rocky beginning, getting Ray to relax with the shift in atmosphere. But after twenty minutes or so, he’s tapping away at his laptop, only ever pausing to reference something else on screen.

 

At 10:30, Ryan brings him his first refill, silently snatching the empty mug from the table and placing the new coffee in his place. Ray doesn’t even blink.

 

At 11 o’clock, he’s taken a single sip from the mug and started to drift, leaning closer to his laptop with each minute that passes. It shouldn’t surprise Ryan, considering it’s been something like a week of constant late nights and constant early mornings. It shouldn’t surprise him to find Ray, at 11:45, with his arms over his laptop keyboard and his head resting against his crossed forearms like a pillow.

 

His shoulders rise and fall so slowly, so gently. Ryan gives him fifteen minutes, then prepares a double espresso. He carries the long black over to Ray’s table and places it down carefully, then seats himself on the couch next to him. He lifts one hand to touch Ray’s shoulder, massaging his fingers against it gently until Ray stirs and lifts his head. 

 

He blinks blearily into the light of the laptop screen, then automatically reaches out for the mug. Ryan stays his hand, then lifts the long black for him. “Your latte’s cold,” he explains, and Ray drinks the dark coffee with a wince.

 

“No sugar,” he croaks, then leans back against the couch, tipping his head back. “You’re the devil."

 

“Something like that,” Ryan murmurs, watching him as he wraps his fingers around the mug and curls himself into the warmth radiating from it. He realises he should stand up now, but the moment he goes to leave, Ray sinks lower in the seat and tips his head to the side so it lays upon Ryan’s shoulder.

 

Ryan remains frozen in place, waiting for anything more to come. Ray just lays there, breathing deeply and taking small sips from his coffee.

 

“You’ve got nice shoulders, Ry,” he tells him. “So comfortable. Michael was right."

 

Ryan clears his throat and shifts slightly, but Ray is unfazed. He doesn’t continue his train of thought, thankfully, but Ryan does notice his fingers start slipping. He reaches down and quickly pries the mug from his hands before he can drop it, and places it back on the table. Sitting like this, with Ray’s head lolled against his shoulder; it’s a little uncomfortable. So Ryan shifts back just a little, helping Ray in his half-asleep stupor to move so he’s laying comfortably across Ryan’s lap.

 

Ryan takes a second to collect his breathing and looks down and the warm heap bundled across him. Ray’s arms are loosely crossed up over his chest, and the back of his head brushes Ryan’s stomach. His hair looks so soft and Ryan finds a hand hovering over it, aching to thread his fingers through --

 

His fingertips touch the strands, but he stops himself there. He quickly looks up, finding something else to focus on. When he notices Ray’s laptop, he busies his hands with it, pulling it slightly forward on the table and scrolling to the top of the document. With a brief glance down at Ray, he decides to read through it, one hand settled over the keyboard while the other controls the trackpad.

 

He finds himself clicking here and there, highlighting words and rereading sentences, and before long, he’s proofreading what looks like a pretty good essay.

 

Ray wakes slowly to the sound of jangling keys. He’s laying across the cramped sofa with a slight crook in his neck, sitting up to find his laptop already closed and packed into his bag at his feet. He looks over at Ryan, already with his bag over his shoulder and his keys in his hand. Ray check his watch, squinting into the dim light. 2 o’clock in the morning.

 

“I’m sorry,” Ray starts to say, but Ryan just shushes him. Ray laughs at that, at the noise that comes from between Ryan’s teeth like Ray’s some kind of sleeping child. He scoops up his bag and joins Ryan at the door, both of them pausing on the front step. They’ve never left at the same time before.

 

While Ryan locks up, Ray shifts his weight awkwardly. He goes to speak, but Ryan beats him to it.

 

“How do you get home?"

 

“Uh, bus."

 

“I’ll walk you to your stop,” Ryan says, and it’s not an offer, but a clear statement.

 

They begin walking down the road, and Ray is still tired, so it takes a few metres before he pauses and asks, “What about you? It’s not out of your way, is it?"

 

Ryan looks down at Ray and Ray hates how calm, collected and awake he looks, even in the 2am lamplight of a restless city. He points behind them, to the block opposite the cafe.

 

“I live there."

 

“Oh."

 

Ray wonders for a moment, how he might go about asking to stay the night. He spends more time wondering if that’s a stupid thing to wonder. Before he knows it, they’re at the bus stop.

 

“Here we are, at the bus stop,” Ray announces, squinting back at his watch.

 

“I can wait with you. It’s late,” Ryan says, and this time it is an offer. Ray hesitates, but knows it’s smarter thinking, and nods his confirmation.

 

They stand silently for a few minutes. Ray’s public transport app says a bus will arrive in three minutes. He tells Ryan this and Ryan nods. He doesn’t have to wait around, but he stays where he is, so close to Ray their shoulders are nearly touching.

 

One minute to go, Ray looks up. Ryan is already looking down at him. He’s finally starting to look tired.

 

They can see the headlights of the bus approaching, and it’s time to part ways. Ryan clears his throat, starts to say, “Good luck with your essay,” but Ray has grabbed his lapels and pulled him down for a kiss.

 

It catches Ryan by surprise but he’s oddly quick at catching on, especially considering their equally sleep deprived state. His hands, uncertain where to go, hold Ray’s shoulders, while his head tilts into the kiss. The bus beeps and Ryan wants to flip it off, wants to drag Ray into his little apartment and wrap him up in his duvet, but Ray is the smarter one and pulls them away. They stare at each other until Ray finally turns and scurries up the steps of the bus, leaving Ryan standing at the bus stop alone in the dark.

 

He smiles to himself and begins to walk home.

 

—————

 

The cafe is void of students for two straight weeks. Geoff tells him they get a rush in the morning, a whole bunch of them lining up at the door before it opens. They both assume it’s exam week, and carry on business as normal. Ryan is a little quiet, but he’s always been a little quiet, so Geoff fills the silences for him, just as he always has. They fight over the phone number jar and talk about new employees, but just as always, the jar remains on the counter, and the payroll remains two names long.

 

On the final Friday of the university exam period, the cafe floods. Ryan spots Ray and Michael, carting a dozen other friends. They’re all talking at a million miles an hour, some of them high fiving, some of them cheering, other sobbing from pure relief of making it out alive. Geoff gives them all 20% discounts in good will, and Ryan multitasks like a motherfucker to get all their coffees out in half the time.

 

While the orders are taken, and the coffee is brewed, Ryan’s eyes meet Ray’s in the thick of the crowd. The boy approaches and lingers by the counter until the order is finished and Geoff has taken his place at the espresso machine. Without a word to Geoff, much to the baker’s confusion, Ryan steps away from his place and approaches Ray at the register.

 

“I got an A on my economics essay,” Ray tells him upon greeting, and a grin breaks out on Ryan’s face. They say nothing more, but their eye contact holds steady as Ray reaches into his pocket and drops a folded piece of paper into the jar marked ‘phone numbers’.

 

Ryan plucks it right out of the jar and slips it into his apron pocket.

 

He returns to his place at the espresso machine, ignoring Geoff’s open mouthed stare. When he finally looks up at Geoff, he shrugs incredulously, as if nothing had happened.

 

“You sleazy fucker!” Geoff exclaims, but Ryan can hear the joy in his voice. He looks across the cafe to the group of students, and finds Ray is still smiling at him. Neither of them look away for the rest of the day.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. After Hours - Adults Only

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite how well Ryan and Ray had gotten on, Ryan struggles when it comes to asking Ray out on a date. Geoff gives them a push, and what starts as a joke turns into a fantastic evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i did it. they did it. we all did it.
> 
> (had a lot of fun with the AH jokes in this one! thanks for all the support yo)

Ryan’s fingers tap aimlessly against the glass of his untouched gin and tonic, as Geoff approaches with his fourth beer of the night. He seats himself on the barstool next to his friend and co-worker, trying to catch his eye, but Ryan’s attention is focused to the cell phone resting on his thigh.

 

“You’re so bad at this, dude.” Geoff shakes his head, taking a swig from his beer. “At least have a drink, then you’ll black out and Drunk Ryan can do the work for you."

 

“I just don’t know how to — What do I say? How do you ask someone out when you’re kind of already friends with them?” Ryan looks up at Geoff, but the other is busying himself with his drink. “You’re not being very helpful, you know. I haven’t gone on a date in like, six years."

 

“Well you’re being a whiny piss baby,” Geoff retorts, while giving a little nudge to Ryan’s drink so it inches closer to him. “Here —"

 

When Geoff goes to grab his phone, Ryan automatically draws it back, suspicious of his best friend, who happens to be the least trustworthy person in the world. Geoff gives him a look, like, _'Really?’_ and manages to pry the phone from Ryan’s fingers.

 

He holds it up to his ear and straightens his back, pulling a face and putting on a voice,

 

“Durr, Ray? It’s me, Ryan, the Shit Awful Player guy. Please won’t you date me, I want to kiss all over your twinky face and —"

 

Ryan has already snatched the phone back, shoving it in his pocket so neither of them can reach it. “I’d do an impression of you, but I don’t have a dick in my mouth,” he snarks, then finally takes a gulp of his drink.

 

The subject is dropped until Ryan finally buys himself his last drink, having capped himself at three for the night. Geoff’s on number eight, but he processes alcohol like water, so he’s still sitting upright and talking sense. Ryan inches his phone out of his pocket to check the time, but he pauses and stares at the contacts app still running on his phone. Ray’s number is static on screen, egging him to dial.

 

He shoves it back into his trousers, harder than necessary, and buries his face in his hands.

 

“I’ll talk to him at the cafe,” he decides aloud, catching Geoff’s attention. “I mean, I see him almost every day. That’s less weird, right? To ask someone out while you take their order?"

 

The words taste like dust in his mouth and he groans, head back in his hands, leaving Geoff with no choice but to pry his glass out of his hands and finish it off for him.

 

—————— 

 

Ryan doesn’t see the student for a few days after that, but according to Geoff, he’s been grabbing his coffee in the morning and leaving before Ryan’s shift has begun. With the university year at its end, Ray no longer needs to camp out in the cafe overnight for crunch studying, so his visits to the cafe are sporadic and unscheduled. It’s nice when his presence is a surprise, but with Ryan’s thoughts racing and tripping over their own feet, it’s difficult to concentrate when he’s so caught up in watching the door.

 

He finally rocks up one day, casual as ever, seeming completely unfazed that Ryan hasn’t called yet. Ryan is thankful, considering it’s been at least two weeks since the boy first slipped his phone number into Ryan’s tip jar.

 

Geoff wordlessly steps back from the register and lets Ryan take over. He leans most of his weight against the counter, gripping the edge a little too tightly as he puts on a friendly smile. To think serving regular customers was difficult enough for him, it didn’t help when he was enamoured by who stood before him.

 

“Hey Rye. Can I get my rose today?” Ray asks, settling easily into their own code words for Ray’s favourite coffees. Roses were nutmeg lattes with roses poured into the milk froth, Snipers were triple shot espressos to keep Ray on his toes, and Snowflakes were citrus frappes, half blended so the ice would crunch against his teeth like fresh frost. Going over the names in his head felt kind of lame, but they’d come up quite organically, and Ryan felt more comfortable talking their own language.

 

“Any particular craving for lunch?” Ryan asked as he punched in the drink order. “Geoff made mint brownies, I think you’d like them."

 

Ray leans forward against the counter so naturally, eyes locked onto the barista’s, smiling through his words. “I’ll have two, yeah.” Ryan rings it up and takes Ray’s card, but both of them linger even after the order has been processed.

 

“So,” Ray hesitates, “How’ve you been?"

 

“Good.” Ryan feels himself choking already. “I went out with Geoff the other night, haven’t had a pub night with him in a while,” he finally forces out.

 

Ray nods, eagerly taking the direction of conversation and adding, “That sounds nice. You go out much?"

 

Ray is so good at this, Ryan thinks. He never would have figured out a segue that quickly, or smoothly, and he’s a little dumbstruck by it. He finally shakes his head uselessly, not offering much, then glances behind him when he feels Geoff’s judging glare on the back of his head.

 

He quickly turns back when Ray tries again, “I’ve been kind of busy, which is why I haven’t come round for a few evenings. Work hours; they suck, right?” 

 

Ryan laughs politely in agreement. His knuckles turn white on the counter, fortunately hidden behind the register. “It would uh, it’d be nice to be able to see you more often."

 

Yes! He’s finally doing it! He catches Geoff in the corner of his eye, where he’s kicking his feet gleefully under the counter.

 

Ryan continues, but starts breaking under the pressure, “I mean, it’s kind of hard to get time off from my own shop. And we’ve got so few staff. It’d be great if you, I don’t know, worked here or something."

 

The second Ryan says it, Geoff stops his gleeful jig and melodramatically slumps down to the floor behind the counter, landing with a thud. Ray, thankfully, laughs it off.

 

“What, do what you do here?” He asks, gesturing at the espresso machine and then at Ryan. “No way, man. I’m not good enough for that kind of pressure. You two are like magicians."

 

“I don’t know. You’re a talented kid,” Ryan offers, starting to panic. The words just fall out of his mouth like vomit. “I reckon you could make a sweet rose, with due practise."

 

Without explanation or excuse, Geoff finally wraps his hand around Ryan’s arm and heaves him into the back room. Ray is left alone at the register for just a moment before Geoff has returned without his co-worker, forcing a huge smile under his moustache. 

 

“I apologise for Ryan!” He says, a little too loud. “He’s coming down with something; fever’s off the charts, hallucinations and deliriousness. You know how it goes, you went to college. I’d kick him out, but he kind of owns the place."

 

The joke is enough to relax Ray and have him brushing off the bizarre conversation with a light laugh. Geoff quickly promises to get his order through, then lets Ray retreat from the counter to find himself a seat. 

 

Geoff returns to the kitchen to find Ryan leaning against a counter with his hands through his hair. Geoff approaches him and grabs his shoulder, shaking him violently.

 

“What the hell are you doing?!"

 

“I don’t know!!” Ryan exclaims, exasperated. “Words kept -- Doing things! In my mouth! They wouldn’t stop!"

 

“Do you want to date this kid? Or do you want to start looking for new hires?!"

 

“I’m trying to ask him out!” 

 

Geoff finally lets go to point at the door shielding them from the rest of the cafe. “That was not a date proposal! That was a job interview! What’s wrong with you?!"

 

Ryan runs his hands through his hair again, stilling them to press the heels of his palms against his eyes. “I haven’t done this in such a long time. I’m not socially good at — people —"

 

“You’re a fucking golden God!” Geoff exclaims, grabbing his face with both hands and pulling him forward. “You don’t need to say anything! Just whip out your dick and say ‘go’!"

 

Ryan groans and tries to drop his head forward, but Geoff keeps it held up. He wants the earth to swallow him whole. He’s a grown man, for christ’s sake, he should be able to keep up small talk and flirt without it being a big deal. What the hell has happened to him over the years?

 

“Maybe I should just call him, do it over the phone,” Ryan thinks aloud, his voice slightly muffled from where Geoff has started squashing his cheeks with how tightly he’s holding his face. He finally nudges him off and digs his cell phone out of his apron pocket. Geoff stares, incredulous, before grabbing it out of his hands.

 

“He’s still  _in_  the cafe, you dick weed."

 

Ryan pauses. “Oh. Right. Fucking hell."

 

“Can we please go and make some coffee?” Geoff finally asks. “Can we please go out into that cafe and not try to hire would-be lovers? Can we just do that for like, two hours? Then my shift is over, and you can fuck up whatever you like."

 

“You’re a real friend, Geoff,” Ryan starts, but his voice is so small as they return to the fray.

 

Giving Ryan a chance to breathe and fetch himself some water, Geoff prepares Ray’s coffee, all but the rose on top. His latte art pales in comparison to Ryan’s, and Ray would notice the handiwork of another man. He readies a tray with Ray’s plate and mug, then passes it off for Ryan to serve.

 

Ryan walks carefully across the cafe, keeping the tray steady until he can place it down on Ray’s table. The customer finally looks up at Ryan, smiling when he sees him. Ryan has no idea how he can be so friendly and warm towards him, even after spouting choked up nonsense and getting himself thrown into the kitchen.

 

“One rose, with an extra shot,” Ryan says as he picks the mug off the tray and places it on the table in front of Ray. “And two mint brownies; extra sugar courtesy of the overenthusiastic chef with a severe lacking of boundaries."

 

Ray chuckles, easing Ryan’s nerves. He can do this, he thinks to himself. This little moment here, with the coffee doing most of the work for him, hiding himself behind a tray and talking quietly in a secluded corner. This is what Ryan is used to, at least when it comes to Ray. This is the routine that relaxes him, that makes him want to experience Ray outside of his little cafe bubble.

 

Where Ray would usually thank Ryan and dig into his food, this time he drops his head and says, “I’d like to see more of you too.” Ryan doesn’t quite hear him at first, until Ray looks up and clarifies, “I mean, Geoff said you had some mad cow fever or something, but I managed to catch a few words here and there, and — I feel the same. Like, it’d be nice to see you outside of the cafe sometime."

 

Ryan’s chest feels tight but he only just manages a smile. They nod politely at each other, and Ryan finally walks away to give Ray peace with his meal. As soon as he returns to the counter, he sits down on the floor, banging his forehead against the fridge door. Geoff steps over him without bothering to look down, and goes about the next two hours of his shift with Ryan curled in a ball of shame on the floor.

 

—————— 

 

Considering Ryan’s idiocy of late, Geoff is pretty relieved that he gets the mornings to himself. Most people assume he’s a late sleeper, or at least a lazy riser, but Geoff thrives on early mornings. Sure, he crashes drunkenly into bed at 12am too often, but nothing can get in the way of his 6am rises and his morning espresso.

 

He starts work two hours before the cafe opens, giving him time to open up the shop, warm up the machine and get the premixed batch of cakes, pastries or sweets in the oven. Not to mention a coffee or two, made while he waits for the ovens to preheat. By the time he finishes his second short black, the doors are ready to unlock, and he still has a few minutes to loll about before any customers arrive.

 

Geoff  _loves_  the quiet created by the cafe in the morning. While the city begins to wake up, the glass walls cocoon him in a little bubble of his own. There’s something about the air that feels fresh at this time of day, and Geoff doubts he’s ever going to find as much peace as he does during his morning shifts.

 

He usually has about three hours before the morning rush really kicks in, and that’s when Ryan joins him at the espresso machine. This particular morning, as he manages the gradual intake of early risers, he’s interrupted from his silent routine when he sees a friendly face behind the register.

 

“Michael!” He exclaims, sliding over to the register and flinging his upper half over the counter. Michael is taken aback when Geoff reaches for him, then lets his arms fall limp against the counter top. “I am so happy to see you."

 

“Geoff!” Michael raises his voice to a squeak, taking the other’s hands and threading their fingers like some TV couple, “I’m honoured!"

 

Geoff laughs and pulls his hands back to himself. Michael only just stops him when he catches sight of some new ink.

 

“Shit dude, you got your fingers done? When did that happen!?"

 

“That doesn’t matter!” Geoff says, but pauses, looks at his hands and adds, “Well, actually -- it does matter, because they’re fucking badass. I mean, I’ve been waiting to get these for like — No! Wait! I have actual things to talk to you about!"

 

Michael leans back, eyes wide and confused. “What’s the haps, dude?"

 

“I need your help, dude. Ryan’s fucking  _killing_  me. I need an inside man."

 

“Inside what?” Michael tries, raising one eyebrow suggestively.

 

“Inside Ray’s fucking libido, that’s what,” is the unexpected reply. “What the hell is going on with those two? Ryan’s acting like a teeny bopper and I’m about ready to hang myself from the rafters."

 

Michael laughs quietly, somewhat uncomfortable. “Alright, dude, calm down… What’s the problem here? Is Ryan making you uncomfortable? I mean, it’s not that bad; Ray’s cute, got a good ass —"

 

“That’s what  _I_  said!” Geoff interrupts, voice breaking.

 

Michael laughs, that high pitched and breathy chuckle of his. “What’s the problem here?"

 

“The _problem_ ,” Geoff starts, all matter-of-fact, “Is that they’re taking fucking lightyears to bone. I need to move things along a bit. Can you give me some kind of go-ahead, like Ray actually wants to stick it in him? Just for, you know, integrity’s sake."

 

“Of course,” Michael agrees sarcastically, “Integrity is the most important thing."

 

“Michael."

 

“I don’t know what to tell you, man. I mean, other than their little smooch at the bus stop, Ray’s not told me much about Ryan…"

 

Anything that comes after that, Geoff doesn’t hear. “Little smooch? Those fuckers kissed and didn’t tell me?"

 

Michael backs up, holding his hands up in surrender. “Whoa, whoa, you didn’t hear nothing from me. I thought you knew already. Let’s just pretend you did.” He pauses, then leans forward to tap the top of the register. “While we’re at it, we should pretend that you’re a barista and that I’ve got work in ten minutes."

 

“Yeah yeah,” Geoff waves him off, but his grin is stretching to his ears. He adds under his breath, “Ryan the Slut guy,” as he keys in Michael’s order, adding in a free slice of cake for the lad’s help.

 

—————— 

 

Ryan’s nerves have started knotting up his shoulders, making his morning routine a bit of a chore. He readies himself slowly, leaving the house without need for a coat for the first time in what feels like too long. He’s slouching a little as he walks down the block towards his cafe, trying his best to block out the world until he’s safe behind glass doors.

 

He’s checking his phone as he walks, scrolling through Twitter when he passes a bus stop. A voice pulls him out of his thoughts and he stops walking, immediately perking up and forgetting his sore shoulders when he sees Ray’s face in the crowd of pedestrians.

 

“Morning, Ryan!” he greets enthusiastically from where he’s bound down the steps of his bus, coming to a halt by Ryan’s side. “I never catch you outside of work. Are you heading in now?"

 

“Yeah,” Ryan confirms. “I can’t believe I haven’t bumped into you either. You want to walk together?"

 

“Might as well.” Ray shrugs, and Ryan has forgotten all of the pain in his back.

 

They dive straight into casual, comfortable conversation, walking in sync and smiling back at each other like they were back on the night of their first kiss. Ryan starts to notice a trend in his comfort levels, in which his nerves settle when it’s just the two of them. Not that Geoff is one to blame for always being around when Ryan stammers, but even in the middle of a crowded cafe — if Ryan has just a moment alone with Ray, everything feels alight, like there’s no one else around.

 

“I’ve been kind of a dick, though, you’ve got to admit.” Ryan has to bring it up. Ray looks at him, confused, until he continues. “You gave me your number like three weeks ago and I haven’t done a thing."

 

Ray just laughs. How easy it must be to be his age again, taking the dating game so casually, so easily. “Dude, it’s fine. Look, we’re still hanging out. I like doing stuff like this, even though it’s usually accidental."

 

Ryan shrugs, not fully satisfied, but agreeing with the sentiment. “It is nice,” he agrees. “We should do this more often. Just you and me."

 

“Yeah? That’d be cool. We can go do something, just the two of us. So that rules out a few things.” He starts to count on his fingers, “Laser tag, team bowling—"

 

“How about dinner?” Ryan offers.

 

Ray drops his hands back to his sides and grins. “Yeah, I like food. Let’s do that this week."

 

Ryan is pushing open the door of the cafe when he says, “I’ll call you on Thursday,” and Ray gives a short little nod, with a pleased little grin, before he steps past him to wait in line.

 

Ryan has no idea why Geoff looks so smug when he emerges from the back room, messenger bag set aside and apron tight around his waist. “What’s up with you?” he asks his co-worker, but Geoff just beams at him.

 

“Oh, nothing. You just get to those,” he points at the screen of orders, “And I’ll handle these babies."

 

Ryan shrugs it off and prepares a coffee for himself to break in the morning, then gets started on the short list of orders, wondering if the rush will pick up at lunch time.

 

Geoff cracks his knuckles when the line diminishes and Ray is the last one left standing in front of him. “Good morning, my good lad,” he greets, leaning forward over the register. Ray’s smiling warmly at him, although Geoff has no idea that it’s because of his recently acquired date. This lack of knowledge fuels his next question,

 

“Before I get your order, I need to be frank and forward with you.” 

 

Ray prepares himself, beckoning with both hands as if to say, “Come at me."

 

Geoff says very clearly, “Do you wanna suck my friend’s dick? Simple question."

 

Ryan looks up, overhearing the interaction. He meets eyes with Ray and, where he would normally pale and  try to snatch Geoff away from the customers, he pauses. He pauses and listens very carefully, a curious smile growing on his face. Is this what wingman Geoff looks like?

 

Since they already have a date sealed, Ray figures it would be more fun to play along. He slams his hands down on the counter, responding over-enthusiastically, “Fuck yeah, dude! Let’s whip it out!"

 

Geoff is taken aback, physically leaning back from the register, but he smiles triumphantly. Ryan struggles to hide his laughter from behind him.

 

“Whoa there; little eager, okay. I like that. I’m sure Ryan will too. But that’s kind of gross to do in the middle of a cafe filled with people, so. You come back here to pick him up, ten o’clock sharp, when Ryan locks those doors."

 

“You’ve got yourself a date!” Ray confirms, punching a thumbs-up into the air. Geoff claps once, somewhat shocked but mostly pleased at how  _easy_  that was! Like, damn, he should be a match maker for a living, write books and shit.

 

Ryan is still watching him, one eyebrow cocked amusedly as he leans against the espresso machine. When Geoff finishes taking Ray’s order, he approaches Ryan with his arms out, beckoning for applause.

 

“Who’s the golden God now?” He asks. "You’re _welcome_."

 

When Ryan takes Rays coffee to him, he finds the boy sitting with his head in his hands, trying to muffle laughter and shield his smile from the world. 

 

“So, that just happened,” Ryan declares as he puts the mug down.

 

“Looks like Geoff the Match Making guy just planned our first date for us."

 

Ryan scoffs, but his smile overtakes it. “Yeah, we’ll let him think that."

 

—————— 

 

Ryan’s been walking on air all day, even returning the gesture when Geoff offers him a salute on his way out. He’s handled the customers easily, had a little extra time to make himself more coffees throughout the day, and he’s been able to mentally plan somewhere he can take Ray on Thursday. He’s truly buzzing, just about ready to skip out the front door when the clock nears 10pm.

 

He turns away from the door to grab his bag, and when he turns back, he finds Ray pushing it open and letting himself inside. He’s caught a little off-guard — he hadn’t actually expected Ray to turn up.

 

“Hey, you’re early,” he chuckles. “We’re not going out until Thursday, remember?"

 

“Yeah, but,” Ray shrugs, wandering into the cafe and approaching Ryan behind the counter, “I couldn’t stop thinking about Geoff’s big puppy dog eyes, and I didn’t want to let him down.

 

Still high on life, Ryan just laughs, the breath hitching in his throat when Ray touches his hands against Ryan’s collar and leans up to kiss him. It’s light and chaste, but Ryan doesn’t need anymore than that right now.

 

They stand in silence for a few seconds, while Ray’s fingers curl into the fabric of Ryan’s shirt, both breathing each other in.

 

Finally Ryan swallows and finds his words. “Do you want to, er, go grab a drink or something?"

 

“Nah,” Ray shakes his head, “I don’t drink."

 

Ryan releases a fast breath. “Thank god, me neither."

 

Ray relaxes his fingers but he keeps him on Ryan’s chest. “We could just, hang out? If you wanted."

 

It doesn’t sound so bad in Ryan’s head when he offers, “We could go back to mine.” But before he has a chance to falter and apologise, claim that’s not what he meant, Ray is kissing him again. Harder this time, hands returning to fists in his shirt.

 

It’s a little startling, and Ryan does choke, but only for a second. It doesn’t take him long to relax, to snake his arms around Ray’s form, allowing one hand to thread through his short hair. He allows himself more than he did at the bus stop, tilting his head and leaning in to taste as much as he can get.

 

Without warning, Ray’s given him a shove, and Ryan’s back collides with the espresso machine. He opens his mouth, inhaling sharply, but Ray only takes it as an opportunity to slide his tongue against Ryan’s teeth. They kiss like that for a few minutes, growing anticipation as their tongues flex and twist and Ryan’s neck begins to ache from leaning down to meet Ray’s lips.

 

Ray’s hands finally move from Ryan’s shirt, reaching behind him to find something to lean against. Ryan enjoys how their chests press together now, and he can pull him closer, feel his chest heaving against his own with each sharp inhale and shaken exhale. Ryan can’t really help himself for wanting to get closer, letting one of his hands drop to the hem of Ray’s shirt and creeping up from underneath the fabric.

 

Ray arches into it and his hand grabs something cold and hard on the machine behind him, squeezes for purchase. It’s too late when he feels it twist under his grip, and suddenly the milk steamer is spraying boiling hot steam into the room. They break apart with a jump and Ray scrambles back against the opposite counter, looking somewhat mortified. Ryan can’t stop himself from laughing before he turns around to turn the dial back and tuck the steaming rod away.

 

“I really ought to show you how this thing works some day,” he mentions off hand as he turns back to resume kissing.

 

He doesn’t expect Ray to ask, “Why not now?” when his hand resumes its place at his hip. Ryan leans back, brow raised.

 

“You want to learn how to make a coffee?"

 

Ray shrugs, seeming to grow embarrassed. “We’re hanging out, right? I mean, why not."

 

“Why not," Ryan repeats quietly to himself, before pressing a chaste kiss to Ray’s lips.

 

Ryan doesn’t really know how he ended up here, tamping coffee grind into the filter with his light handed precision. Well, he knows that much; he would have to, owning a cafe and all that. But with Ray hanging off him, both his arms slung around Ryan’s waist from beside him, standing on his toes to rest his chin on Ryan’s shoulder as he watches closely.

 

Ryan has to slow himself down, to work at a step-by-step pace as opposed to the smooth grace that automates him at work. He’s sure Ray is just humouring him, just trying to distract Ryan as he places warm, slow kisses against his neck. But every now and then, if Ray has his eyes closed for too long, he’ll pull back and murmur.

 

“What’s that? What do you do that for?"

 

Ryan laughs under his breath. “So this is the coffee itself, and I’ve got to lock it into the machine.” He repeats the motion, knocking the handle of the filter with his wrist until it clicks. “Then water from the machine drizzles down, mixes with the dry coffee, and — Ray, you’re not listening."

 

He has his neck crooked to one side while Ray continues to plant kisses under his jaw. “I’m listening,” he mumbles.

 

“How about you steam the milk?"

 

Ray pauses at that, pulling back and looking at Ryan properly. “What, the rose stuff?"

 

Ryan shrugs and nods. “Yeah, it’s fun."

 

Ray carefully unwraps himself from around Ryan, standing back and waiting for Ryan to fetch a milk jug and fill it with just enough for a latte. He then hands it over for Ray to hold, so he can move the milk steaming rod and position it for him.

 

Ray looks at the jug in his hand, then at the milk steamer, then at Ryan. “I have literally no idea what I’m doing."

 

Ryan laughs again, making Ray pull a face, something akin to a pout. He shuffles over, stands so his chest is pressed to Ray’s back, and reaches his arms around him to hold the milk jug.

 

“One hand here, the other on the bottom,” he instructs quietly into Ray’s ear, positioning his hands on the jug. Ray feels himself shiver when the deep, quiet voice runs down his spine.

 

With his hands positioned over the top of Ray’s, holding them firmly, Ryan lifts the jug into the milk steamer, so the head of the contraption is just under the surface of the milk. He tilts the jug carefully, angling the rod against the lip of the jug, then reaches a hand out to turn the steam on. Ray jumps slightly, more startled by the squeaking of the milk. It soon muffles into a low gurgle, then a quiet hum, and Ray finds himself relaxing with his head tilted back under Ryan’s chin. Ryan is so warm and firm around him, holding him and touching him from every angle, and Ray feels like butter as he watches the milk spinning smoothly in the jug.

 

He still has no idea what he’s doing at the machine, but lets Ryan handle him and instruct him as he switches off the steam and pulls the jug away from the steamer. 

 

“I can see how you get so lost in that,” Ray admits, looking down into the swirling of the creamy liquid.

 

“Want to make a rose?"

 

Ray hums, hesitating, then turns to push the jug into Ryan’s hands. He much prefers to watch.

 

With a careful pour and a few flicks of a toothpick, Ryan’s prepared a rose latte, just as beautiful as any of his others, even with Ray hanging off him the whole while.

 

The latte sits on the counter ignored as Ray stands back on his toes to wrap himself around Ryan’s shoulders and shower him in more kisses. They’re slow and languid now, never lingering long enough for tongues to play, but continually leaning back in for more. It’s Ray’s turn to be leant against the machine, shifting against the warm metal from where it hums behind him. As they kiss, Ryan automatically reaches past Ray to flick the switch off, feeling for a washcloth and wrapping it around the milk steamer to clean it.

 

Ray feels Ryan kissing him harder after a while, and although he’s not complaining, he had been enjoying their light little kisses. He turns his head to break the contact, giving Ryan a playful nudge. He pauses then, noticing Ryan’s hand out of the corner of his eye, stilling where it had been slowly wiping the steaming rod up and down, his fist wrapped around it.

 

“Wow, dude,” Ray turns to him, “Something’s on your mind."

 

Ryan goes deep red and drops the washcloth like it had been red hot. “I was just cleaning."

 

“For like, five minutes. I think it’s clean.” Ray’s grinning like a maniac.

 

He notices Ryan draw in on himself, moving to turn away and grab his bag. Ray just stops him in time with a hand on his waist. “Maybe it’s time we go back to yours,” he suggests.

 

That has Ryan smiling again, nodding somewhat shyly. He bends down to pick up his bag where it had been abandoned at their feet, and when he stands back up, Ray is sculling the latte they’d made earlier.

 

When he catches Ryan’s eye, Ray raises his brow grins. “What? I’m gonna need it."

 

If Ryan could turn a brighter shade of red, he’s sure he would have.

 

—————— 

 

They skip the small talk, foregoing the bedroom rituals of progressing from the kitchen, to the couch, and the bed. The second they’re inside, they’re kissing, and Ryan just backs them up to a wall so he can get some leverage and hold him closer. He lets his bag slide off his shoulder and land with a thud as he starts to toe his shoes off and leave them on the floor of the living room. He feels Ray shifting, doing the same, while Ryan’s arms snake around his torso to hold him against the wall without discomfort. 

 

Ray’s hands find their way to Ryan’s hair, threading through and giving gentle tugs when he wants Ryan to open his mouth. They’ve started familiarising the taste of each others mouths, humming into the warmth and the wetness that swells their lips into a deep pink from the pressure. 

 

Their mouths aren’t the only supply of pressure, and Ryan can feel Ray’s arousal as he rubs his thigh up against Ray’s crotch. The friction is just enough to leave them gasping into each other’s mouths, fingers digging into shoulders and nails scratching at skin.

 

Neither one needs to say it, it just takes enough self control from Ryan to pull away from the wall and guide Ray towards the bedroom. Ray walks backwards into the room, knees eventually hitting the bed and wobbling to stay upright. Ryan lets him grab at the hem of his shirt and helps him pull it over his head, but he’s blocked from returning the favour when Ray busies himself with learning the contours of Ryan’s chest with his hands and, importantly, his mouth. 

 

Ryan can only stand it for a minute before he wraps his hands around Ray’s shoulders, pulling him back then carefully helping him backwards onto the bed. Their kisses crawl up the mattress, Ray backing up to the headboard while Ryan’s teeth follow him wherever he goes.

 

He finally draws himself away when his hands come to rest against Ray’s waistband, feeling at his belt. They take a moment to fill their lungs, while Ryan asks breathlessly, “How do you want to do this?"

 

Ray drops his head back against the neatly made pillows, returning a hand to Ryan’s hair so he has something to tug. “I don’t fuckin’ know, man, stop being so considerate. I just want to sit on your face,” he finally decides.

 

Ryan laughs, content with the answer. He returns to undressing them, each of them getting their own belts and jeans undone and kicking their clothes away eagerly. When they’re equally naked, Ryan settles himself back over Ray, knee positioned carefully between Ray’s legs as he holds himself over him to drop kisses against his lips.

 

Ray is perfectly happy to suck on Ryan’s tongue for another hour or two, rubbing his freed erection against Ryan’s leg, so he whines low in his throat when Ryan pulls away. Ray opens his eyes slowly, then suddenly all at once when he looks down to see Ryan lowering himself to settle between Ray’s legs.

 

“I didn’t mean you actually had to — ah, fuck."

 

Ryan breathes hot against Ray’s cock, wrapping a hand around the base and holding it up so he can lick slowly up the underside of it. He flickers his eyes up to see Ray’s hands fist in the duvet either side of him, head lolled back against the pillow and throat exposed. He wants to crawl back up and kiss it, suckle marks onto the skin and pull at the flesh with his teeth, but he forces himself to focus on the task at hand.

 

He takes the tip of Ray’s dick in his mouth, tongue teasing against his foreskin before he pulls it back with his fingers, exposing the head to close his lips around it. Ray’s already moaning, and Ryan is already enjoying the noise.

 

Ryan slides his hand back down to the base of Ray’s cock and takes him further in his mouth. He fits quite snugly, bumping him against the back of his mouth and flattening his tongue against his shaft. He dares to hum, his free hand ready to pin Ray’s hips to the mattress when they rock upwards automatically. He presses a thumb hard against Ray’s hipbone, distracting him with the pressure as he arches himself more comfortably to take Ray deeper down his throat.

 

One of Ray’s hands finally finds its way to Ryan’s hair, not hesitating to wrap the strands around his fingers and give a sharp, suddenly tug. It makes Ryan gasp, groaning around Ray’s member. He swallows around him, his throat clenching and causing an unbearable heat to shoot up Ray’s spine. 

 

Ray gives another tug, something more urgent this time. He can hardly speak with his other hand fisted in his mouth, so Ryan pulls off to look up at him expectantly.

 

He waits for Ray to catch his breath, then pulls his hands back to himself. “That’s — Thank, uh, fuck. But I still want to…” he trails off, losing his words and opting for an obscene hand gesture instead. Ryan laughs as Ray jerks a straight finger into the loose fist made by his other hand.

 

Ryan crawls off the bed and crosses to his dresser. He only takes a moment, digging through his top drawer to find a bottle of lube and a condom from a previously opened box. When he returns to the bed, he drops them down next to Ray like a promise, then returns his mouth to Ray’s cock.

 

With his mouth closed hotly around his shaft, his other hand loosely jerks him, fingers eventually trailing down to roll his balls in his palm. Ray finds his voice just in time to warn Ryan of his coming, giving the other the chance to pull his mouth away and jerk him into climax.

 

Ray needs a few minutes after that, arching his back and squirming on the bed from oversensitivity, twitching where Ryan’s hands run slowly up his sides and down over his chest.

 

While Ray recovers from his orgasm, he sits up on his elbows to watch where Ryan has sat back on his haunches. He tries to make eye contact, but Ryan can’t quite meet it, instead looking somewhere in the middle ground as he jerks himself slowly to a full erection. 

 

“You done this before?” Ray asks cheekily as he watches Ryan flip open the bottle of lube and squeeze some out into his palm, using only one hand. Ryan dares look up at him, remembering the recent nights he’s laid in bed and jerked himself into a stupor over thoughts of Ray. The little flick of his lips before taking a hoodie string into his mouth, the spider ease in which his fingers move across a keyboard, as well as a few fictitious fantasies. Ryan doesn’t have to say anything; Ray smiles smugly either way.

 

Ray finally sits forward, joining his hands with Ryan’s and languidly running his fingers up and down his length. They stop before they get too far, Ryan tearing open the condom and rolling it up his cock with both hands. 

 

He’s not quite sure how to go about the next step, socially at least, but breathes a sigh of relief (and, let’s admit it, arousal) when he looks over to see Ray laying back down, spreading lube onto his fingers. He reaches down past his own semi, hooking his legs either side of Ryan’s waist and dipping a finger against his entrance. Ryan takes a hold of his thighs, hitching them up against his hips as he watches; more enthralled by Ray’s face as his finger creeps inside and twists to find his sweet spot. 

 

Two more fingers blur by in Ray’s mind and his hips are jerking against his hand, pulling his hand away before he gets too carried away. He wraps his hand around his own shaft, nodding up at Ryan and squeezing his eyes shut.

 

Ryan holds his hips up, pressing only the head of his cock against Ray’s entrance at first, then pushing past the ring of muscle and digging his fingers into Ray’s thighs when he feels the muscles tense. He leans forward so he’s hovering over Ray, planting one hand down on the mattress beside Ray’s head, the other hand coiling around to hold the small of Ray’s back. Ray is gasping when he’s only half in, so he takes it slow. He pulls back, then rolls his hips forward as his hand pulls Ray’s hips up to him.

 

It takes a few thrusts for them to sit comfortably together, until Ryan can settle in to the hilt, and Ray has both arms tugging at his own hair. It doesn’t take long before Ryan needs both hands to hold himself up, so Ray wraps his legs firmer around Ryan’s waist, pushing his own hips up to meet each thrust half way. 

 

Ryan has always been fairly quiet, most of his volumes coming in the weight of his lungs and the hotness of his breath. Ray keeps groaning, like he’s frustrated, like he’s so fucking turned on he just can’t handle it, and he eventually quells the feeling by removing his hands from his hair and grabbing Ryan’s jaw with them. Ryan falters, nearly falling on top of Ray when he’s pulled down, but quickly regains himself when Ray focuses all of his energy on kissing the life out of him. 

 

Ryan finally starts to make noise then, moaning into his mouth, their teeth catching and biting at each other’s tongues as they kiss with more desperation than anything. The longer they kiss, the more enthusiastic Ray grows, and he soon has an arm wrapped around Ryan’s shoulder, hitching himself up, trying to get closer.

 

When they pull back for air, Ryan’s hips falter and Ray takes the opportunity to push himself up and turn them over. Ryan flops onto his back, landing with a weight that bounces them on the mattress. Ray is quick to realign and sink down on his cock in one quick motion, his next moan caught in his throat as his brows knit together, mouth fallen open. 

 

Ryan’s hands claw at Ray’s thighs, fingernails digging in as he tries his best to roll his hips up and meet Ray’s motion, but Ray has everything under control. He plants a hand against Ryan’s torso, holding him steady and using the firmness of his chest to aid himself up and down, slamming his ass harder onto Ryan’s cock with each thrust.

 

Ryan can feel his climax building, pressure climbing and he opens his mouth to say something, but Ray interrupts him with his loudest moan yet. His hand has wrapped around his cock again, and it only takes a few strokes for him to come hard over Ryan’s stomach, spurting up to his collarbone. The involuntary clench of muscles that comes from Ray’s orgasm sends Ryan over the edge, coming inside the condom on Ray’s next down thrust.

 

They’re both breathing loud and heavy when Ryan returns from the bin, crawling back onto the mattress and collapsing on his stomach beside the boy. Ray lies on his back, running his hands over his face, fingers pressing into his eyes under his glasses. Neither say anything; neither has to.

 

They don’t bother with clothes. It’s a warm night, and they’re both sweating. Ryan finally lifts himself up to lay on one side, facing Ray so he can drape an arm across him and drop open mouthed kisses against Ray’s shoulder. It earns a contended hum from the younger, before Ray turns to face him and their lips meet in a lazy kiss.

 

They fall asleep interlocked, legs laced together and breathing each other’s air.

 

—————— 

 

Ray awakens slowly, squinting into the morning light let through the bedroom curtains. He looks around the empty bed, first searching for where his glasses are somewhere tangled in the sheets, then for whatever it is which had awoken him.

 

He can hear a loud buzzing to his left, and leans over the side of his bed to scoop up his cell phone from where it’s poking out the pocket of his jeans.

 

“Mmmm?” He answers, voice locked by drowsiness.

 

“Yo boi, did I wake you?” Michael’s voice answers.

 

“Mmm."

 

“Thought I’d call you before work. Call of Duty’s releasing today, you got a preorder yeah? I can put that aside till you —"

 

“Guess who had sex,” Ray interrupts, voice still rough, but his lazy smile evident in his tone.

 

Michael is silent only for a second before he’s suddenly shouting. Ray thinks he’s excited; sometimes it’s hard to tell.

 

“You can’t just drop a bomb like that! Did you fuck the DILF?"

 

Ray laughs breathily and sits upright, stretching and arching his back. He comforts himself against the headboard, folding one hand behind his head. “He’s not a dad, stop saying that. It’s creepy."

 

“You did it. The ultimate D. I’m proud of you, boi. How about I call you back later?"

 

Ray looks up at the doorway as Ryan enters, carrying a tray of what smells like toast and looks like two mugs of coffee. He’s smiling sleepily, and although Ray’s kind of disappointed that he’s clothed, he still looks attractive in loose track pants and a sweater that falls over one bare shoulder.

 

Ray hangs up without saying a word to Michael, and drops his phone to the floor.

 

“You’re such a fucking DILF,” Ray blurts out, watching the way Ryan sets their breakfast on the bed and takes a seat next to him on the mattress.

 

Ryan raises an eyebrow. “I don’t know what that means, but okay,” he tries, lifting one of the coffees to his lips.

 

Ray leans forward to grab his own, taking a small sip before he leans over and presses a long, gentle kiss to the stubble on Ryan’s jaw. “It’s a good thing."

 

—————— 

 

Ryan doesn’t say anything to Geoff; he doesn’t want to give himself the satisfaction. After all, he’s sure Geoff will have seen the red marks sitting low on Ryan’s collarbone from where Ray had gotten bitey after breakfast.

 

As they work on through lunch, however, something does start to bother him, and he has to interrupt Geoff’s extended tattoo talk.

 

“Geoff,” he hesitates, “What’s a DILF?"

 

Geoff immediately bursts into laughter, keeling over and laying on the floor. He stays there for ten minutes, settling down after a moment then starting back up again whenever he looks at his co-worker.

 

Ryan never does find out what it stands for. He’s sure he can get it out of Ray if he tries hard enough.


End file.
